


House Hunters

by Ladeeknight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, House Hunting, House Stark, Kinktober 2019, Lingerie, Mirror Sex, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Oral Creampie, Oral Sex, Scars, Scent Kink, Uniforms, first time cunnilingus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-11-27 22:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladeeknight/pseuds/Ladeeknight
Summary: Modern House hunting AU where Sansa is looking for her perfect place and Sandor is a long time friend and her contractor obstensively there...checking for leaks and such..? Spoiler...he finds them. I am writing this as loose frame work for Kinktober, so they get right to it and will probably continue doing it all month long. I cannot promise a lot of plot, but porn there will be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of two Kinktober pieces I am doing. If you want to check out the traditionally timed Waxing Poetic for missing Kinks, please do so.

“But you said you don’t have a condom on you,“ Sansa panted against Sandor’s scathing kiss. She’d just confessed her attraction to him and, his hands were already up her lavender cotton skirt.

He pulled out of the kiss and stared up at from his crouched position at her feet with storm-cloud eyes. “Did you not say you have a need, little bird?” His hands had stopped moving mid thigh as soon as she spoke, but his calloused fingers we’re making circles on the sensitive flesh making hard to think.

_Had I said anything about a need, _she thought dazed by her mouth still tingling where his three-day beard and scars had rasped against it. “Well, not every desire can be acted upon in the moment.” She tried from primness, but her voice just sounded high and quavery in her own ears. “We are in a stranger’s house, after all.” The house loomed up around them, as if affronted yet curious at their behavior. Sansa was house hunting and had invited her friend and contractor along to one in a long line of houses she was considering purchasing. Her realtor had given up coming on the tours and just left keys for her since she was "determined to see every house in Kings Landing" before she made her choice.

Sandor’s grin turned positively feral making Sansa wonder just what that mouth was capable of. “We are alone in a stranger’s house. And it could be yours soon enough if you decide to settle on this one. What a better way to christen it?” The grin didn’t reach his eyes. There was vulnerability peeking out from the depths practically waving a sign stating: This could all be yours, if you just claim it. Sansa was suddenly seized with the conviction that she needed to be careful. Sandor didn’t just want under her skirt, he wanted into her life. She backed away.

Sandor stood, but did not pursue her. Sansa was struck by the way he filled her field of view. _I always let the men in my life do this. I don’t have time to lose myself in a relationship right now. Get a hold of yourself, he’s talking._  
“...to spook you. I can be whatever you need. Just give me a chance.” He waited through a moment of her silence, then he did move forward. Sandor raised her hand to his mouth. Instead of brushing the back with his lips like many of her other suitors had, he turned it over and laid a hot, open-mouthed kiss right at its center. Another center in Sansa throbbed. He licked her, his tongue tracing the lines of life, heart, and head. Her fingers curled involuntarily around his face cupping it, grazing his scars. He growled against her pulse point, which made it take off in a gallop.

“But-”

“There are many things to be done that don’t require a condom.”

_He wants me to blow him, _Sansa thought, not without a tinge of interest. He was so big he had to be big all over. She wondered if she’d be able to choke him all down.

“As much as I’d love to see your pretty pink mouth wrapped around my cock, that is not what I had in mind,” he growled wickedly into her palm.

Sansa gasped at his filthy words, the scandalous image they evoked, and embarrassment at getting caught staring at his crotch. “I-” he waited brow raised, but there was no truth she was willing to speak, and he was famously intolerant of half truths and falshoods. Sansa decided to try to put aside all her training and be direct as possible. “What do you have in mind?”

The leer was back, but he’d walled up his eyes, and they were more reflective steel than roiling storm. “I would like to lick your cunt until you scream my name. Nay until you forget your own.”

Sansa had never been spoken to in such a fashion, and for a moment she could not form words around the graphic imagine he’d conjured. “Ok,” she finally managed.

He took one step forward, and his hands swept up her skirt to plant themselves firmly on her backside as he pulled her against him. He felt as though he were made of steel when she wrapped her legs around his waist. His fingers immediately took advantage of her splayed legs. He pulled her panties aside and dipped his fingers into the heat of her. Sansa groaned at the welcome invasion. Sandor pumped in and out of her as she ground against his erection through his jeans. “Let’s take some measurements,” he rumbled before hosting her up so that her legs were over his shoulders. He walked smoothly until she had her back to a wall. The specs stated that the ceilings were 12ft high throughout the house. Sansa reached up, and her fingertips didn’t graze the crown molding, so she figured the listing was accurate.

Sandor cleared his throat, and she looked down to see another toothy grin. “I’ve got my hands a bit full, so if you want me to eat that pussy, you are going to have to bare it for me.”

His words made Sansa felt so naughty, but she definitely did want him to. No one else ever had, and she didn’t want to miss her chance at this elusive experience. She pulled up her skirt slowly, shy all of a sudden though she was wearing a lovely pair of petal pink panties that were little more than a whisper of lace. He growled, and Sansa could feel the vibration rumble through his chest and throat. She couldn’t help but grind against it. “You’re killing me, woman. I smell that sweet dripping quim, and I want a taste more than my next breath.” Sansa yanked the rest of the skirt away, presenting him with the sopping crotch of her panties. Sandor ground his face into it, making approving noises. Sansa tangled her fingers in his hair and tried not to push his head. She had never cared for that experience and she didn't think anyone did. After several long moments of this tantalizing pleasure, Sandor carefully took her panties in his teeth and ripped them aside. A jolt of lust rocketed through Sansa even though those were some of her favorite. With another noise of approval, Sandor buried his face in her core, and Sansa lost all control of herself. She could never have imagined something felt that good. To have the whole of this powerful man concentrated on the focal point of her pleasure was bliss beyond expression, though she did begin to cry out incoherently. _No wonder men like blow jobs so much._ She bucked and slid against his mouth, using the wall at her back as leverage. As pleasure built in her, Sansa begged him not to stop. It didn’t even seem like Sandor needed to breathe as he kept up his onslaught until she was screaming his name. Pleasure like she’d never experienced ripped through her and her legs involuntarily clutched at his head as her back arched to a nearly unhealthy angle.  
When Sansa came back to herself, she was sitting bare-assed on the marble island in the kitchen with no recollection of how she’d gotten there. Sandor was cradling her against his big hairy chest more gently than she would have imagined, one hand and his face buried in her hair.  
“Welcome back,” he said smugly through that wolfy grin.  
Sansa blushed hotly, recalling her wantonness. Then she blinked at a difference she’d not registered before. “Where is your shirt?”  
His smile widened. “The front is more than a little wet, so it’s hanging over the banister.”  
“Oh my goddesses, I’m so sorry,” Sansa said, trying to smother the flames in her cheeks against his massive, muscle slabbed chest. That was the moment when she noticed the springing curls of his upper chest were damp and smelling of her. “Mother, Maiden, and Crone, I’m an animal.”  
“More of a fire hydrant,” he said, fluffing his chest hair sending the scent of satisfied female wafting out into the world, with a smirk that should be criminal. He took her chin between thumb and forefinger and lifted her gaze to his. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a compliment when a woman drenches you. Are you recovered enough for round two?”  
His words were a balm for her discomfort, but “Round two?”  
“Now you know how to scream my name, but I promised to make you forget yours.”


	2. Flip It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hits 69 and Blow Jobs as well as few others on the Kinktober list. Not much plot movement though we get a glimpse at some of this SanSan's history. And a bit of a cliff hanger at the end...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go from Sandor's POV. So it's way more vulgar and explicit. Hope you can appreciate the tone shift.

Sandor loved the way his words made Sansa’s lovely eyes roll back in her head. He’d been with his fair share of women, but never one like her. If Sandor hadn’t known her through a bunch of boyfriends (even caught ’em going at once, green idiot pumping away like a thirsty coney and the little bird looking nothing but board), he’d swear that this was the first time anyone had gone down on her. “Once is never enough,” he said to himself as he started to push her soft purple skirt back up. He was determined to make good use of his hands this time.

“Poor me,” Sansa pouted, her lower lip plumped out to epic proportions even as she leaned back putting her weight on her long creamy arms while spreading her legs a little wider. “I didn’t even get a turn.”

Sandor tore his eyes away from enticing white thighs that were just a hairsbreadth from copper curls to see that she was staring at his crotch again. “Quit it, little bird, or you’ll bite off more than you can chew. This is about me showing you I can give you what you want.”

Sansa licked her swollen pink lips and said, “Then show me what I want.” Then she ran one perfectly manicured nail down the zipper flap of his jeans.

“Fucking hells,” Sandor swore. “Good ahead, then.”

Sansa pinched the button on his jeans open alright, but he could see how her usually capable hands shook as she went for the zipper. For a man who didn’t wear drawers that more than shaky prospects. “Let me.” And in a couple of movements, his cock was out, and his jeans were at his knees. Sandor was more than curious about what would happen next. 

Sansa stared for a long, agonizing time as if working something out in her mind. He’d been here before too. Some chicks see bulk like this and bolt. That’s why Sando liked to be several orgasms in before he let himself out, but he could never deny Sansa anything. “You don’t have to-”

“Don’t be silly. I’m just working out the best angle.” And she reached out to take him in hand. Well, in both hands. Her skin was gloriously smooth, unlike his own calloused palm, that had been his only action of late. He fucked into her hands, unable to stop himself groaning. “That’s it,” her dulcet tones soothed. “Show me what you like.”

“Anything you do, little bird.” Sandor couldn’t believe what he was coming out of his twisted mouth, but it was true, gods help him.

She smiled prettily up at him, then leaned down and wrapped her mouth around his cock. He fucked into her mouth a couple of times, fetching up against the first she was using as throat guard. _I’m the fucking animal _Sandor thought as he fought not to tangle his fist in Sansa's molten locks and fuck her brains out.

Seizing on the only idea that sprung to mind at this moment and her waist, he flipped Sansa upside down and turned her away from the island. Gravity bared her sweet pink cunt to him, and he lamented briefly that he had his hands full again. Sandor felt and heard Sansa’s cry of surprise. “I gotcha, little bird.” As he took two quick strides to the tabless banquette and sat down. Sunlight blazed down on her glistening ruffled quim, and the sight was so lovely that the draw of her mouth on his cock was like background noise. The view before him was too delectable not to swipe with his tongue; she sucked harder. He fucked her with his tongue, and she bobbed her mouth more furiously. Sansa was starting to flow like a fountain again, and he smiled, letting the scar tissue on his lips scrape gently across her clit. Sansa gave a muffled little cry and started circling his head with her tongue. _ Gods, the little bird knows how to give good head._ Sandor lost himself in the sensation even as he polished her pearl with his tongue, until he felt Sansa begin to tighten beneath his mouth. He flicked her clit more firmly. His cock came free of her mouth as she could no longer stop her lust song. Sandor was ready to cum from his name on her lips, she sang it so sweetly. A few more swipes of his tongue and her pussy convulsed and began to shutter sweetly beneath his mouth as he tried to lap up all her juices.

He was interrupted by a muffled, “Excuse me,” and a bit of squirming. With a last flick of his tongue, Sandor looked down to see that Sansa had planted both palms on the hardwood. He could also see the bra that matched the panties that were now in his pocket. His cock twitched with a longing to be buried between what was beneath that frilly lingerie. And of course, her fiery triangle and round ass were still on display. His mouth watered, and his cock throbbed. “If you’ll let go, I can take it from here.”

Sandor took her at her word though he remained ready to steady her if the upside-down orgasm had throne off her equilibrium. Sansa turned neatly on her hands so she could bring her long lovely legs down without kicking him. It all happened with such grace that he was reminded of a gymnasts dismounting a beam. She smiled down at him knowingly. “I was in gymnastics until it became clear that I was not going to be ideally shaped for it,” Sansa said before sinking to kneel between his knees, putting her eye to eye with his still straining cock. “Hmm, where was I before I was so rudely interrupted?” she asked it before rolling her lovely blue eyes up to his, her mouth slightly agape in mock wonder. Sandor’s cocked twitched involuntarily in the penile equivalent of waving a hand. “Was I here?” Bob. “Should I continue?” Bob only this time Sandor had done it on purpose. “Alright then,” she purred and stretched her mouth open over the throbbing head of his dick and began sucking like her life depended on it. One hand began gliding up and down his shaft, and the other cupped his balls. 

Sandor started swearing in delight. “That feels so fucking good.” She looked up at him and smiled around his cock as best as she was able. He’d never seen that before and it was the of him. “I’m going to cum,” he grunted, trying to shove her off him, not ungently. Sansa clung all the tighter and all but impaled her head on his cock until he felt the tip of his dick hit the back of her throat, triggering her gag reflex. The spasm in her throat felt a lot like the fluttering of her cunt when she came except her mouth was sucking with far more power thank her sweetly clenching quim was capable. Sandor’s only answer to this perfect storm was to shoot his load. He felt her throat work heightening his pleasure, but she’d taken so much cock into her mouth, and he’d cum so hard and so much that there was cum leaking out of the slackening seal that her mouth had on his cock. His sack contracted again at the sight, and another little spurt of cum shot down her throat.

His dick popped out of her mouth as she pushed back from him, looking around a bit wide-eyed. Sandor reached down into the pocket of his jeans and brought out the wad of her torn panties. He used the dry bits to wipe his cum off her lips and chin.  
Once he was done, she took them back. “Were you planning to add these to your collection?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also counting for cream pie and lingerie. It's not technically either one, but since we are holding of on actual intercourse in this fic for a while we're going to have to allow the definition of sex to encompass oral sex as well. Hope you all don't mind. Let me know what you think. You think Sandor's going to be in trouble for the panties? He has a bit of a scent kink.


	3. What's Under the Wall Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a side piece or off ramp chapter that gives a look at a possible dark side to Sansa. It also offers a glimpse into this SanSan's past. I've been feeling dark lately (there is a lot of terrible shit going on in the world and this is how I process) and this chapter turned dark on me. I followed it, because these are dark characters and I feel that not following them where they lead does a disservice to them. You are getting it now because this is where it would fit in the story and also because I could not get my home computer to turn on today so this is all I had the ability to edit and put out. I always err on the side of, you all want more story faster (because that is how I feel as a reader) and to be honest I want to give it to you.  
That being said not everyone has to follow us. You may want to skip this one. It's not horribly dark, but it certainly isn't the smuffy fun from last chapter. You won't miss any actual smut though I do feel there is some hurt comfort that is worth while. Anyway it's not super bad, but it is a bit of departure from the fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a nod to Alayne. If you choose to take the dark road in this story, this Sansa has had some kind of trauma that may come out later in the story.

Sandor froze at her words, and Sansa was treated to the very satisfying feeling of catching Sandor out. “You were,” she said softly, not really knowing how to feel at first. _Maybe I misjudged him, and I am just another conquest. I thought that’s what I wanted, but now I feel as torn and used as these panties._ She looked down at the sodden ball and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Little Bird-” Sandor rasped and held a hand out toward her. Usually, his gravelly voice made her think of roughhewn stone and sawdust, but in this moment, it rubbed raw against an exposed nerve, and she flinched away from his touch. That brought her back to her physical self, and she suddenly hated that she was kneeling between his muddy work boots.

“Don’t call me that,” Sansa spat. _No wonder none of them respect you? Just a few words or silly names, and you’re on your knees again. Sansa, what is wrong with you?_ She stared hard at his outstretched hand. _As you were a wounded animal. That’s what I am, _ she thought as she skittered awkwardly to her feet; the gymnast of a few moments ago was long gone. That was grace that only a confident Sansa could access. _And by the look on his face, you flashed him too. Great job._

Sandor sat absolutely still, pants at his ankles, hand still out until Sansa stopped backing up about halfway across the open concept living room. He let his hand drop. The unscarred side of his face was as twisted as the other side, and fear drowned her self disgust. A reel of recent moments replayed rapidly. _Did I say anything to make him mad? _

_I told him not to call me ‘little bird.’_

_ Would that make him angry enough to hurt me?_ She’d seen Sandor get rabid. She’d seen him beat a man half to death on her behalf. _What if..?_

As if he could read her thoughts, “Sansa, I’m not going to hurt you.” He made no move to stand or cover his still half-hard manhood. She took several deep breaths. The smell of sex that they didn’t actually have hung heavy in the air. It was powerful, male, and female untainted by the rubber smell of condoms Sansa was used to. Sansa liked it and hated herself for it. She felt more grounded. Sandor was still too close, though.

“I need to freshen up,” Sansa said only slightly shakily, pleased that some of her aplomb was returning. _That was something that people said,_ she thought as she slipped into the powder room under the stairs and closed the door.

The tiny room was overwhelming with its gaudy gilded wallpaper. Sansa knew that people liked to play with the small space that a powder room afforded, but whoever had chosen the decor for this room had let their love of opulence run away with them. She reached out a shaky hand and turned a golden spigot until cool water ran into the gold-flecked porcelain basin. The metal felt good in her hand. Cold to replace the heat of the moment. She splashed water on her face and dared a peep between her fingers at her reflection in a mirror straight out of Snow White. With runny eye make-up and lipstick that was smeared hither and yon, Sansa looked a picture of the “back alley Sally” that her mother had always warned her about. Sansa plucked a few squares of toilet paper to wipe away the carnage.

As she repaired her face, more of her everyday self came back. With every dab and swipe, she told herself, this was not the end of the world. After all, nothing had really happened (_beyond earth-shattering cunnilingus_ a small voice in the back of her mind whispered). Sansa flushed. _You can pretend none of it happened, _ she thought as she tucked her torn panties into their matching bra. _Sandor will go along with it, or you’ll find another contractor to help with the house hunt. _ Sansa cupped her hand under the faucet and gulped. 

_I just need to get through this house and get some distance from him, and then I can think. I bet he would take me home now if I asked...But I haven’t seen the upstairs, and I really like this house despite how gaudy-_

Her thought was interrupted by a soft knock at the door and a low rumble. “I brought your bag from of my truck,” rumbled a deep voice. “In case you needed anything in there.” Sansa’s chest tightened. She had been low key wishing for her bag.  
She turned and opened the door a crack. All she could see was the unmarked side of Sandor’s face, and it took her breath away. He was good-looking in a rugged hooked nose way. She’d noticed before. But now, with naked sorrow shining in his stormy eye, she felt struck by the self-loathing she saw there that seemed to reflect her own feelings right back on her. No excuses, no rationalizations, no flipped accusations. Sandor held her bag out to her and said, “I can call you an uber and go if you don’t feel safe with me.”

Sansa hooked her fingers through the straps of her bag and pulled it into the powder room with her. “No thanks, I’m…”_ fine would be a lie. _“I’m getting better.”

“I’m going to check the electrical. Plans say it’s in the master closet.” 

Sansa shut the door on his words. _He is giving her space. He let me know where he is going to be in the house. He is going on as if nothing happened. That’s good. It’ll be easier that way. _

No wanting to take the time to put on a full face, Sansa reached into her bag for powder, mascara, and gloss as couldn't bare to be totally unarmored. As she began applying her facade, Sansa heard his boots tromp up the stairs. She’d knelt between those boots. She’d done a roundoff between those boots. _It wasn’t weird until you made it weird._

_ But the panties._

_ Lots of guys do that._

_ Lots of guys are assholes._

_ Yeah, they are. _

_I didn’t think Sandor was one of them._

_ He’s not yelling or making it your fault._

_ Maybe he has an explanation. _

_Or a good lie that you can string yourself along with._

_ I could ask._

_ But will you?_

Fifteen minutes later, Sansa was in the kitchen taking pictures of the back-splash when she heard a yell, a thud, and a crash followed by some spectacular swearing. She turned in a swirl of lavender skirt and headed for the stairs calling, “Sandor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did it seem to you like Sansa was talking to herself? I was trying to capture what disassociation feels like and boarder line personality disorder looks like. How did I do? Even if the chapter was not for you, I'd be open to constructive feed back. Thanks for going dark with me.


	4. Attic Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here is the light side. This is the thread the story will follow. Sansa takes a lighter view of the attempted theft of her panties and we find out what happened went bump from last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the last chapter and got a glimpse of dark time line Sansa, I thank you. This also picks up after the panty question and will be the line the story follows from here on out, unless I need to dip into the dark side again.

"And what would you know about my collection?" Sandor growled.

"I assume your crew calls you Panty Hound for a reason," she said with a giggle as she shoved her own into their matching bra. 

"Because they are crass bastards bound for the unemployment line to the last man if you don't give me the specific names."

"Oh no, you won't. I know you better than you think Sandor Clegane. You'll bear the truth of your reputation, and chew the whole lot of them out on Monday, but no one will suffer for your sins, but you. But I won't be a part of your collection," Sansa said as she used his knees to lever herself up. She spun with enough force to lift her skirt in a twirl of lavender, uncaring if he got a glimpse of butt cheeks.

He made a whistling sound that made her think he did. "That thought never crossed my mind, Little Bird. I'll trade you every scrap of silk I've got for your lace."

"While you keep the cotton ones? No, thank you," said primly over her shoulder.

"I'm serious, Sansa." 

She could could that he was. "I will give it some serious thought then. I'm going to look at the bathrooms upstairs. The specs on that claw-foot tub cannot be right."

"I'm right behind you, to take a look at the electrical." And he seemed to take an immense amount of pleasure in following her up the stairs.

They parted ways in the master bedroom, him to look at the switch box in the master closet and her to a pink marble spa that was indeed crowned by the biggest claw-foot tub that Sansa had ever seen. She was up to her eyebrows in imaginary bubbles when she heard a yell, a thump, and a crash.

"Sandor," she called skidding to a halt in the master to see Sandor through grand double doors sprawled on the floor of the walk-in closet that was probably more accurately described as a dressing room, half-covered by bright fabric that looked to be still raining down out of the ceiling on him. "What-?" another jangling crash as something big plummeted to the thick piled carpet just as Sandor rolled away. After a couple of beats of silence, Sansa could contain her laughter no longer. "Are you alright?"

"Aye," he growled, hauling himself up by the door frame. "I heard skittering above me, and I was going to see if you have bats in the belfry. When I moved the access panel, all of this came falling down on me." He gestured to the pile of rich fabric piled in the corner with one hand while rubbing his head with the other.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" Sansa said all concern now that she could see a bump rising on the burned part of Sandor's scalp.

"Aye, my noggin's fair sturdy. That was the first thing to come down, though," he said, towing an elaborate helmet with his work boot.

"Maiden, was that chain mail that fell last?!" Sansa exclaimed as she when when was satisfied Sandor was not too hurt and could examine some of the glittery litter.

"Here's the Maiden's garb," he said, irreverently pointing at the colorful fabric heaped around him. "And yes, I think it was chain of some sort, by the sound of it." Sandor said, as he held up the extra-large linked metal dress.

"This place is a foreclosure. I thought the bank would have done a better sweep," Sansa said, holding up a beautiful gown of sapphire.

Their eyes met over the garb, and it was if a spell had been cast. Sansa laughed dancing into the bathroom to the tune of metal links jingling.

She'd just finished lacing the scandalously low neck of the gown closed when there was a knock at the door. Sansa swept the door open in her approximation of a curtsy and looked up...and up. A huge steel helmed, white-cloaked figure overflowed the doorway as he shouldered into the cavernous marble bathroom. A surge of fear and lust hit Sansa with such a force that it had to come from far away. It made her weak at the knees, and as she started to crumple the figure lunged forward and swept an arm around her waist to keep her from hitting the tile with one hand while the other pushed up the snarling dog helm. "Little Bird, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I feel like I have," Sansa said, trying to catch her breath. Sandor's grip tightened, and his gaze strayed to the wall of mirrors above the split, double sinks. Her gaze followed his. Together they looked like the cover of a romance novel or a medieval horror story.

"You're trembling," Sandor said, his voice echoing wildly down the strange helm. He must not have liked the sound either because he ripped the thing off his head and pitched it into the bedroom before unclasping his cloak and whipping it around her shoulders. "Better?" All Sansa could do was nod. "I would call anyone else a liar, but I can hear the truth in your voice," Sandor said as his ruined mouth twisted even more grotesquely into a smile. Sansa returned his smile freely as he chaffed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. She reached up and cupped the ruined side of his face in her hand. To her utter shock, a tear welled up in that stormy eye and spilled over her fingers. "I don't know what's come over me either Little Bird, but I want more than anything for you to come away with me." His voice was strangled and tight with some strong emotion.

"And for some strange reason, I'm afraid," Sansa said as she wiped Sandor's cheek and burrowed deeper into the cloak that already smelled like him. She dug deep for a tremulous little laugh; more of an attempt to banish her distress than because she actually felt like laughing. "I guess that's what we get for playing dress up in a stranger's closet."

"The Stranger's closet maybe," Sandor growled as he buried his face in the deep cleavage that the dress displayed.

"None of that spooky stuff," Sansa pouted, trying to explain the pounding of her heart.

"Will it get you out of that dress faster?" Sansa shivered as he licked the rounded tops of her breasts.

When his teeth and stubble grazed her delicate skin, all thought fled. "Yes!" Sansa pressed herself against him, looking for any relief to the ache that any attention paid to her breasts created. Sandor hadn't even seen her nipples yet, and she was all wet and squirmy. 

"That doesn't actually make these laces easier to deal with," he growled against her skin, which made her quiver from head to heal. Muttering a muffled curse he knelt in a jangle and patted his knee. "Sit." Sansa did as she was bid primly, legs together like a lady. A laugh rumbled up through Sandor's chest. "Are you sure that is the direction you want to stick with?" Then he flicked his wicked tongue under her bodice managing to graze the outside of her areola.

Sansa shivered again and shifted so that she could straddle his knee. The chilly rings of steel against her hot flesh was titillating, and she ground against his thigh keening for release as Sandor fought her lacings. "Please," she begged.

Sansa gasped as the gown tightened for a moment as he fisted the fabric. Then she felt nothing but his hot gaze on her puckered breasts as Sandor rent the dress to her navel. Sansa made a last needy noise before his hot mouth descended on her hypersensitive skin. Sansa felt rough hands cup the underside of her breasts, and she moaned and bucked against him. The stroking continued until Sansa thought she'd lose her mind. She sought his gaze over the globe of her breast to plead with her eyes too. She wanted to feel his rough, soft lips on her nips. "Sandor, please," she whispered urgently.

Sansa found Sandor's steely eyes trained upon her chest with an almost worshipful gaze. "This is it little bird. What makes you lose control," he rumbled quietly as his thumbs circled up to her nipples. All Sansa could do was nod, as a moan took over her mouth, and spilled out over the both of them. She began to move her hips in earnest. "That's right. Let go." Sandor murmured as his head bent to suck a nipple into his mouth.

Sansa's world narrowed down to the zinging pleasure at each breast and her core. So unused to being the focus of a sexual act, Sansa was overwhelmed by the sensations and then pulled under in a gasping heaving mess.

"What's your name?" A deep voice rasped in her ear.

"What?"

A deep rumbling laugh. "Mission accomplished."

An unknowable time later, Sansa found herself curled up on Sandor's chest as he lay on his back on the marble tile in the middle of the vast master bath. It was a testament to just how big the room was that his legs were stretched out. One beefy arm was folded up so that truly spectacular biceps pillowed Sandor's head, while the other was wrapped around her. Sansa could feel the slide of his muscles as he stroked her back. She thought he could have stretched both arms out and been only barely able to touch the antique dresser that had been converted to a vanity on the left, and the golden claw of the tub on the right. "You must be so uncomfortable," Sansa said as she started to rise.

He folded her to him more snuggly, and she quivered at the way the metal rings played against her stiffening nipples. "I'm fine as long as I'm wearing you."

"Sure," Sansa laughed, still disbelieving that a man could be so focused on her.

"Look up," Sandor suggested. She did, seeing the underside of his jaw, one side angrily puckered by scaring and the other side spiny with dark bristling stubble. He tilted his face to look down on her with the storm cloud eye that glinted from the maelstrom of scar tissue. Sandor winked at her and gestured up toward the ceiling with his chin. That was when Sansa saw that the "fifth wall" was one long sheet of silvered glass. The mirror showed her draped wantonly amid the tatters of the dress doing nothing to hide the side boob that was bared by her arms snaked up around Sandor's unbelievably broad shoulders. She could see a blush spread down her back as she saw that the skirt was hiked up in back to her waist, baring her white round backside and some of her copper curls since her legs were sprawled open. "I've never been covered in something so soft or lovely."

Slowly Sansa began to understand that the ring mail was not responsible for all the hardness she was feeling beneath her. She pushed her weight up on her hands to marvel at a contented look that she'd never seen on Sandor's face unless he was actively engaged in shaping wood. Then a realization hit her. "Goddesses, you must think I am the most selfish lover in Westeros. Every time you bring me to a screaming peak, I just zone out without-"

A calloused finger came across her lips. "Little bird, nothing is further from the truth."

"But-" He pressed harder into her lips. Sansa got his point, but she did not like to be silenced. She moved her head back and then sucked his finger into her mouth, rolling her tongue around his finger in the way that had made him tongue her the hardest. He went completely stiff beneath her. She took a firm grip on his hand and sucked until he gasped and pressed his hips up into hers. Sansa met his eyes and withdrew her mouth from his finger with deliberate slowness. "What would you like to do next?"

Sandor looked a bit dazed, but he was quick to answer. "I would like to watch you spread your legs over these cheeks," he traced his wet finger across the ruined and whole flesh, "and ride my face."

Blood suffused Sansa's face at his unexpected and unexpectedly graphic description. "But-" 

Sandor's finger crossed her lips again. "Asked and answered. Come take a seat if you are willing."

"Ok, but-" before Sansa could finish expressing her inexperience with this position, she watched his tanned hands come down on her white bottom and scooped her up his torso like a bulldozer moving so much flesh and fabric to it's desired location. When her breasts crossed his mouth's striking zone, he stopped pushing to lave each nipple. Sansa could not choke back her pleasure but groaned audibly as she sought to grind her clit against his stomach. He gripped her legs preemptively . Sansa let out a strangled cry and tossed her head back in frustration that deepened as she caught sight of Sandor grinning around a mouthful of her left tit that only sharped her desire. She thrashed harder against his hold and locked eyes with him for a moment. He very deliberately looked down their reflection, and Sansa's gaze followed his until she saw herself splayed and wanting. As if he'd been waiting for that, he thrust two fingers deep inside her. "Oh, gods Sandor," she cried.

"Aye, little bird, tell me all about it. I need to hear you tell me what a good job I'm doing."

"Oh, gods, it's so good. I really like it." At her words Sandor pressed on the small of her back with his free hand, so that her tummy pressed against his rock hard erection. "Yes Sandor it's so good."

"How good? Use bad words."

Though she was new at this Sansa wanted very much to please Sandor. She'd been around construction crews all her life. She knew the words, she'd just never used them before. _Now is as good a time to learn as any. Besides it's nothing but the truth. _ "Gods Sandor, it feels so fucking good. You are going to make me cum again." He responded by thrusting into her tummy with a grunt, followed by a convulsive shiver. Through it all he never stopped moving the hand that was moving inside her. 

After a few deep breaths his eyes focused on her again. "Well, come up here and show me how much you like it." Sandor brought Sansa the rest of the way up so that her legs were indeed spread across his face.

Sansa couldn't do anything but kneel over him for a few moments. She was in awe of the power her words had over the man beneath her. Also his fingers were buried so deep inside her, further than anything else had ever been. "Oh, gods, please," she mewled.

"Please, what little bird? Tell me what you like."

"I don't even know, just please don't stop. I feel…" but Sansa had no more words. She caught Sandor's perplexed look for a moment in the mirror but had no space inside her for anything else besides the wonder of what Sandor was doing and his huge work hardened hands.

"Hold the skirt back so I can see what I'm doing. That's right. I want you to fuck my face like you did my stomach when I was sucking your tits."

Sansa gasped at his words and did her best to comply. She knew at once she was doing it right when his tongue made contact with her clit. Sansa let out a high trilling cry and ground onto his face. Sandor growled what she hoped was approval because she was unsure she could stop herself. Sansa felt his big, warm hand splay across her chest and push gently back so that she lay against his now drawn up legs. Sandor used the hand whose fingers were still deep inside her guide her his mouth. The hand at her check tipped her chin up, and she was treated to the site of Sandor's face buried between her legs. When he grinned and winked at her again, she bucked involuntarily. Sandor angled her up so that she could see him licking her clit. When the fingers of his free hand found her nipple, Sansa felt herself shatter into a million pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you all think.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you all think


End file.
